The Gift Conundrum
by raileht
Summary: "He's not the lout I imagined him to be." (a.k.a. The Kurt Appreciation Story) Diane and OFC Bethany Carlington


**The Gift Conundrum**  
by: raileht

**Summary: **"He's not the lout I imagined him to be."  
**Disclaimer: **The ones you don't know are mine, the ones you do aren't.  
**Rating: **T, to be safe

**Note: **This is a 'Kurt Appreciation Story', I think...too bad he's just in my head. _Written and posted at the Christine Baranski Community June 10, 2012._

* * *

"He's cute, I'll give him that."

Diane Lockhart smiled and went on driving as Bethany Carlington sat next to her, toying with a heavy piece of equipment made of platinum, metal and god knew what else. Both women had on sunglasses that Sunday morning and while Diane wore a stylish though subdued pair of designer ones, Bethany had opted for her large, obnoxious Chanel pair that she loved. She deemed it perfect for a girls' day out full of shopping, caffeine and making credit card companies and salespeople worship them.

"He's quirky," the other blonde went on, "I mean, surely this isn't the type of gift _I_ would have liked...hell, it's not even something _you_ would think of ever wanting, but...strangely, this is cute."

"You're just glad it's not you."

"Well, that too," Bethany smirked then shook her head, lifting the piece of metal in front of her and let it catch the sunlight, "This isn't Tiffany's—"

"Oh, it most certainly is not."

"But it's sweet!" the other woman defended. "It's charming, if you think about it."

"In a way, maybe," Diane shrugged although she barely glanced at the new contraption that was quite obviously fascinating her friend a lot more than she would have imagined. "If I _really_ think about it and I honestly prefer not to."

"No, it is," Bethany said simply, "I mean, sure he wears plaid…sure he's nothing like my own love of mine, sure he drives a Ford and has that whole All-American thing going. Not to mention the Rep—"

"Point, please."

"But he's _sweet_," her friend finished simply, "He's sweet in a...well, okay, we would have eaten him alive if we were bitchy high school girls, but we're not—"

"—in this instance, at least—"

"He _thinks_ about you," Bethany said as if she hadn't been interrupted, "He thinks about you in a way that isn't all that common anymore. I mean, come on...how many men have you dated that put you through the hell of learning how to change a tire at the risk of having his balls cut off? I mean, my god, I don't think my hubby even knows how to do that, let alone have any clue how to teach me."

Diane smirked, "God love your husband, but would he even have the guts?"

"No, but do you see?" she waved her hand absently, "He's the kind of guy who would ask you what time you'll come home and when you're three hours late and haven't picked up the phone, he'll come out looking for you…like, if your bathroom's broken, he won't even have to be asked to fix it. He just will. Or, you know, make sure you have snow tires for the season and enough salt for the driveway."

"God, is he my lover or my handyman?"

"He's both," she shrugged, "And it is just so sexy, right? He's the whole package, complete with the hot ass and without any prison records and tattoos." She sighed, "Not that I'd want my darling WASP-husband to start crawling under my BMW and start tinkering with it because I will rip his scalp off...but your cowboy? Not as bad as I imagined."

"You thought he was bad?" the woman behind the wheel frowned.

"Oh, come on, Diane! The first thing you ever said to me was he's a Republican. And he wears plaid," she snorted, "What was I supposed to think?"

"Fine, and? What else _did_ you think?" she was almost afraid to ask.

Bethany shrugged, "I thought he was a fling, someone to get you off…an easy fuck."

"Don't be so vulgar."

She smirked, "See? But really, when was the last time a guy got you like this, huh?"

"I'd rather not think about that particular fact…" Diane frowned.

"I'm just saying…he's not a bastard," Bethany said, "And not the lout I imagined him to be."

"He's definitely not," Diane shook her head, "He's a good man."

"Exactly my point," Bethany shrugged. "I mean, leave it to that man to think about getting you something to break windows in case you drive off a bridge and plunge your car into a river."

"That's not a happy thought."

"No, but it is a reality," her friend said simply, "Bad things happen and he's clearly aware of that. And not just aware, he cares enough about you to make sure you won't drop dead just because he isn't there to help you."

Bethany tilted her head sideways, "It's like a new version—a better one at that—of a white knight. He cares, but not in a sappy way that would just make you sick or just straight out want to slap him to next Tuesday." She started to turn in her seat, looking around the car and said, "I haven't done some poking around, but I just bet he got you mace too."

"Well, we already have that," Diane grumbled a little though even she was feeling warmth spreading from her chest to her face. Why she felt the need to be a little embarrassed, she wasn't sure but she was blushing anyway.

"Yeah, but he didn't know that maybe or he wanted to get you one himself," Bethany said, "I mean, a BodyGard 7-in-1 for a gift—and I hadn't even heard of this until now—and sure, I would like Cartier too and I know you would as well, but you have to admit...bonus for sweetness, caring, thinking outside the box without ending up giving you something stupid like…robot dog or tickets to some goddamned game."

"I like football—"

"And you have your own tickets so why should he get you those?" Bethany asked rhetorically, "He's a sweet, caring, thoughtful man. I would change his clothes, but he's got a nice ass that won't quit so the jeans don't hurt...not perfect but damn it, he's _something_."

"You do know you sound like you're ready to saint him just because he gave me something from Swiss Tech instead of Tiffany's, right?" Diane smirked, trying to alleviate the moment with some light jokes.

"Yeah, but who cares?" Bethany shrugged, "A man is insisting he takes care of the most stubborn, independent, 'fuck-the-world' woman I know. A person I happen to care very deeply about. I like that."

"So he's got your approval?"

"Over mace, tire-change lessons, window breakers _with_ an alarm plus seatbelt cutter and," she paused then tilted her head sideways as she peered at the object in her hand then glanced behind the car before continuing, "I'm guessing some blankets stuffed into the trunk of your car-"

"How did you—?"

Bethany smiled, "It's a gift. He strikes me as the type...let me guess that there's a flare gun there as well?"

Diane shook her head, "Amazing. Yes. And a flashlight in the glove compartment."

Her friend chuckled, "He's adorable."

She thought for a moment, "Yeah…he kind of is."

"I can get over the plaid," Bethany said again, as if that was something she'd been considering, "But overall, I like him. He's not dull or boring. He obviously knows what he's doing in bed—"

"Bethany."

She stuck her tongue out at Diane before continuing, "And he's a Republican _with_ a brain, from what I'm guessing since you haven't snapped and killed him yet." She smirked, "And I'd know if you had because you _know_ I'm going to be the one you're calling to help you with the body…"

Diane laughed and nodded as she kept driving, "True."

"So that means he's not entirely the useless rag I imagined," Bethany concluded, "A real man, it turns out with a brain and a nice ass I cannot help but fixate on. Not bad."

"When you put it like that…" Diane rolled her eyes though she tried hard to hide the smile that appeared on her face. She failed.

"So you're keeping him around?"

Diane paused for a moment before nodding, this time showing her friend her smile and said the first word that came to mind, "Yep."

"Good," Bethany smiled as well and leaned back in her seat, clapping her hands. "Now why don't we find the nearest bridge to drive off of? I'm dying to try out your man's gift. I'm sure your insurance will cover it!"


End file.
